


Hole 3

by jadey36



Series: Hole [3]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 10:19:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/673307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadey36/pseuds/jadey36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin and Guy are still trapped in a disused well, playing an indecent game of <i>I Spy</i> and waiting to be rescued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hole 3

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Livejournal Slashfest 2012.

**Hole 3**

“What was that?” Guy hisses.

“What was what?”

“That shuffling sound.”

“You’re imagining things,” Robin tells him. “Now, keep going. I’m nearly there.”

Guy closes his eyes, concentrates on the steady backwards and forwards movement of his right hand. He shivers every time Robin’s knuckles graze his own. Any moment now, he knows they will shoot their load between each other’s open thighs. It is both a mortifying and miraculous thought. The letter M, in Robin’s childish game of _I Spy_ ,is certainly turning out to be one of Guy’s better choices since he and Robin earlier traded blows above the treacherous Treeton Mines. 

“Wait.” Robin steps away, his back hitting the slimy-stoned wall of the well. 

“What?” Guy snarls.

“I can hear it now. That shuffling sound, that—”

“That sound of someone who’s found you out.” Sheriff Vaisey waves a flaming torch above the well’s opening. “Well, well, well, Gisborne. All this time, I thought you were saving yourself for the leper and here you are, caught with your trousers down with none other than my favourite outlaw, Robin-holier-than-thou-Hood.” The sheriff looks appreciatively at Robin’s exposed privates. “I always knew there was another side to you, Locksley.”

“This is not...this is not what it looks like,” Guy splutters, frantically tugging on his leather breeches, cursing that they’ve lost their usual slipperiness thanks to his and Robin’s earlier wet games. 

“Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” The sheriff lowers the torch further into the well, grins a gold-toothed grin. “You were supposed to catch the outlaw, Gisborne, not fuck him senseless.” 

There is no vitriol in the sheriff’s words; one might almost say he sounds happy.

“I am not—”

“Shush, shush, Guy.” The sheriff raises a finger to his lips. “No need to explain.  The question is, what am I going to do about it?”

“What do you mean, what are you going to do about it? You’re going to get me out of here.” 

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, and, by the amount of flesh showing I think that I’m not, a moment ago you were more than happy with your situation. You too, Hood.”

“Just keeping my end up, sheriff.” Robin leans against the wall, seemingly indifferent to his dropped breeches.

Guy glares at the outlaw. “If I have to spend one more minute in this fucking hole, I swear I will tear you limb from limb, Hood. I will—”

“Ah,” the sheriff interrupts, “fucking and hole in the same sentence. Music to my ears, Gisborne, music to my ears.” He pulls a small dagger out of his belt and begins to dig, close to the well’s edge.

“What are you doing?” Guy asks

“Yes,” Robin chimes in, “what are you doing?”

“As Guy here will tell you, I like to watch. Which is why,” the sheriff says, as he lowers the non-fiery end of the torch into the hole he has just dug, “I need my hands free. Well, hand technically, but a change is as good as a rest, as they say.”

With that, Vaisey starts to unbuckle his trousers.

“I don’t believe it,” Robin mutters.

“Believe it,” Guy says with a sigh.

“Why in heaven’s name you would choose to perform your dirty little deeds in a cold, dark well, I have no idea.” Vaisey sinks to his knees, slides a heavily ringed hand into his silky black underpants. “Next best thing to a broom cupboard I suppose. Well, go on then, get on with it!”

“No bloody way,” Guy snaps.

“What he says,” Robin adds.

“If you don’t,” the sheriff warns, “then you will find yourselves in hot water, or should I say hot molten lead, since that is what I will be pouring down this hole if you don’t, how shall I put it?” The front of his underpants jiggle. “ _Entertain_ me.”

“Hot molten lead,” Robin scoffs. “Where the hell are you going to get—”

Two helmeted faces appear at the top of the well – Vaisey’s guards. In between them, sitting on a small-wheeled wooden platform, is a large, steaming cauldron.  Whether molten lead, or just boiling water, neither Robin nor Guy fancy having it rain down on their heads. 

Vaisey orders the guards away, adding a few threats about them going home with fewer limbs than they came out with if they don’t keep quiet about what has gone on here tonight. 

Guy looks at Robin. Robin nods.

“You win, sheriff,” Robin calls.

Awkwardly, the two men press into one another, their free hand clutching each other’s sleeves, the other tentatively fingering their ‘let’s-call-it-a-day’ cocks.

“Does the sheriff really like to watch?” Robin whispers.

“Yes. And if you tell a soul about it, I’ll tell everyone about you and me, about this.”

“Won’t say a thing,” Robin assures him. “Now, where were we?”

“M, I believe. But I’m not certain I can—”

“Neither can I,” Robin interrupts. “But we can pretend, can’t we? And once the sheriff’s had his fun, he’ll get us out of here. Then you can distract him and I can make a run for it.”

“And then he’ll have my guts for garters, for doing this with you and not him.  I think I’d rather stay down here.”

“Come on, come on,” the sheriff demands. “I haven’t got all night. And stand farther apart. I can’t see what’s going on.”

“There’ll be nothing going on if you keep interrupting,” Robin warns. “How come he’s here anyway?” This whispered to Guy. “I thought he didn’t give a flying fig about you?”

“I guess he was having trouble getting to sleep,” Guy says through gritted teeth.

“Ah, I see.” Robin closes his eyes and buries his face into Guy’s shoulder. He breathes deeply, thinks he could grow to like the smell of leather. The bulky ring on Guy’s middle finger drags along the back of Robin’s hand. Robin’s cock twitches. “Maybe we don’t have to pretend after all.”

“Maybe not,” Guy agrees.

Above them, the sheriff hisses, “Yes, yes, yes.” Small stones and a sprinkling of dry soil fall into the well.

“Ignore him,” Guy growls.

“Doing it,” Robin says.

Robin is imagining Guy jerking off in the sheriff’s bedchamber, minus the sheriff. Guy is imagining Robin jerking off in the forest, minus the gang.  The sheriff is imagining what’s about to happen to his nice clean underpants, as he mutters, “Busy hands make light work.”

Once again, the letter M looks about to come to fruition – for all three men – when the crack of a whip shatters both the stilly night and the men’s concentration. 

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” the sheriff barks.

For once, both Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne are in complete agreement with him.

Reluctantly, the two men step apart. A flaming torch plummets into the well.  Yelping, they hastily stamp on it. With the torch, as well as their respective ardour, extinguished, Robin and Guy look skywards. 

What they see is another fiery torch. This time, it is not the sheriff holding it aloft but the Night Watchman.

“Mari—” Robin clamps a hand over his mouth.

“What did you say?” Guy asks.

“Er...marry me when this is over?” Robin twitters nervously. 

Marian lowers the torch into the well, peers downwards.

“What the hell are you two playing at?” she demands. _Oops_. She clamps a hand over her mask.

“ _You!_ ” Guy barks. “ _You’re_ the Night Watchman!”

Marian lays the torch on the edge of the well and rips off her mask.

“The question still stands,” she says, hands on hips. “What are you both doing, and why are your trousers hanging around your knees?”

“Er...would you believe we were playing _I Spy_ , my love?” Robin winces.

“No, I wouldn’t. And don’t you _my love_ me, Robin Hood. You were supposed to be meeting me to tell me about those taxes that—” Marian clamps a hand over her mouth. _Oops again_.

“It’s the truth,” Guy says, completely missing the implication behind Marian’s unintentional disclosure as Robin shouts, “Rats! There are rats down here.”

“Where, where?” Guy squeaks.

“My mistake.” Robin grins. “It was your foot.”

Guy looks up at Marian. “We really were playing _I Spy_. We...er...just ran out of things to spy.”

Robin smiles. Gisborne displaying a sense of humour. Will wonders never cease?

“Rubbish!” Marian retorts. “And what were the sheriff and his goons doing here?”

“Talking of whom,” Robin cuts in. “How did you manage to scare them off so easily?”

Marian twirls the soft leather mask around her index finger, smiles. “When they saw me coming they scarpered. As for the sheriff, I guess he didn’t fancy feeling the lash of my whip.” She pats the coiled length of leather belted onto her right hip.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Guy says. “The sheriff is never one to turn down—” Guy clamps a hand over his mouth. _Oops_. 

“Well?” Marian says, tapping her foot, Guy’s near slip totally lost on her.

“That’s right, Marian.” Robin smiles up at her. “I told Guy there was a well somewhere around here, but he didn’t believe me.” He nudges Guy, whispers, “Is the sheriff the one who does the whipping, or do you—”

“That’s it!” Marian spits, stamping her foot. “I’m getting that cauldron and—”

“Marian, wait!” Guy calls.

Marian turns around, peers back down the well.

“Look. I’ll come clean,” Guy says.

“Dirty, clean, I’ll take you any way you come,” Robin says so only Guy can hear.

“You see, Marian.” Guy kicks Robin in the shin, none too gently. “The sheriff has trouble sleeping and to help him get to sleep he likes to, you know.” Guy nods towards his groin.

“Likes to what?”

“You know.” Fingers loosely curled into his palm, Guy makes a forwards, backwards gesture with his right hand.

“Play dice?” Marian says.

“No, not dice. You know.” He repeats the hand gesture, with more emphasis this time.

Marian creases her brow. “Fishing?”  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Is she always this dim, Robin?”

“Not always, no. It’s just she’s never seen a man jerk off before. Not even when me and her—” Robin clamps a hand over his mouth. _Oops_.

“Oh.” Marian’s eyes widen, the penny finally dropping. “He likes to play with his...” She trails off, grabs the flaming torch and leans farther into the well. 

“Finally!” Guy exclaims.

“But what’s that got to do with you two standing in the bottom of a well with your...your...rods hanging out?” Despite the chilly night air, Marian is suddenly sweaty, and not just under her armpits. Her lips form a tight little O. A few more pennies drop. 

“Robin...I mean, Hood and I were fighting when the earth gave way and we found ourselves trapped down here. We’ve been trying to get out for ages.”

“Among other things,” Robin mutters.

“And,” Guy continues, kicking Robin’s other shin, “the sheriff found us down here and ordered us to, you know, get our rods out to help him with his, you know, dice game, I mean fishing, and... Fuck it. You tell her, Robin.”

“No need,” Marian says. “I get it. The sheriff likes to watch men playing with their ding-dongs instead of having a bedtime story read to him. Now I know why you walk around with a permanent scowl on your face.” This directed at Guy.

“I do the bedtime story thing as well,” Guy mumbles.

Robin snorts in amusement. Guy stamps on his foot.

“Marian. Did you happen to bring a rope with you?” Robin asks.

Marian doesn’t answer. How many times has she dreamed of seeing what Robin and Guy keep hidden in their breeches? Now here they both are, trapped in a confined space with their breeches down. Talk about Heaven!

“Marian!” Robin snaps.

“Oh, yes, what?”

“Rope. Have you got a rope?”

“Yes, sorry. It’s on my horse. I’ll go fetch it.” Marian turns, accidentally kicking the still blazing torch into the well. The two men hastily stamp on the flames.

“At this rate,” Guy grumbles, “we’re going to end up burning to a crisp rather than freezing to death.”

“Listen,” Robin says, knowing Marian will soon return. “You know about Marian and I know about Vaisey’s little games. How about we call it evens? You forget about the Night Watchman and I’ll forget about your bedtime shenanigans with the sheriff.”

“Deal.”

“One more thing,” Robin says.

“What?”

“I’m still...I’d still like to—”

“Me too.” Guy inwardly curses. Did he have to sound so keen?

“There’s a cave in the forest, near to—”

“I know it,” Guy interrupts.

“I’ll meet you there.”

“When?” Guy asks.

“Tomorrow night. You can do anything you like with me. Pick any letter that takes your fancy.”

“I’m thinking the letter F.” Guy grins.

“For fishing,” Robin says and laughs.

“Here,” Marian calls. She throws down a length of rope and promptly starts shinnying down it.

“Marian, what are you doing?” Robin asks.

Marian continues to work her way down the rope and then drops between the two men. “Like the sheriff,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I’m having a little trouble sleeping.  I thought maybe you two boys could help me.” She waggles her index finger.

Robin’s lips form a tight little O. The penny drops. “Guy, I think Marian would like to go fishing with us. What do you think?”

“I’m game if you are,” Guy grins.

“All right, Marian, you’re on. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“When we get out of here we never talk of this again.”

“Agreed.”

“Guy?”

“Agreed.”

“In that case,” Robin says, “I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with...”

Guy laughs. Robin was right – this is going to be a cold and increasingly wet night. An interesting one, too. For all three of them.  

**The end**


End file.
